


Late Frosts and Early Springs

by RunRabbitRun



Series: Fae!Joxter Series [2]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Nature Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 18:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunRabbitRun/pseuds/RunRabbitRun
Summary: After unexpectedly meeting his previously-unknown son on the road, Joxaren travels to Moominvalley to tell Snufkin the truth about who and what he is. Or at least, that was the plan. He's definitely going to tell him, for sure, he just needs to gather a little more courage. Meanwhile, Moomintroll struggles to keep his mouth shut, Little My is out for blood, and Moominmamma has the patience of a saint.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well gotdam, I wrote another one! As before, this is unbeta'd so please feel free to call out errors if you see them. ConCrit is much appreciated and all readers are treasured in my black little heart forevermore.

An unseasonably cold breeze came down from the mountains one Spring morning, bringing with it dark clouds and a chilly shower that lasted all day.

“Oh dear,” Moominmamma said, leaning on the kitchen windowsill and peering out into the gloom, “I hope this doesn’t turn into a late frost, it’ll kill my poor sweet peas.”

“It’s just a little rain,” Moominpappa assured her. “It’s far too late in the season for a full-on freeze.”

“I hope you’re right, my love,” Moominmamma sighed.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Mamma,” called Snufkin from the sitting room. “The last true frost was more than a month ago, now.”

“And what would you know about it?” asked Little My from her spot under the sofa. She was crawling around, gathering dust bunnies for her own secret purposes. “You’re never around when it gets cold here.”

“Oh hush, My,” Moomintroll scolded. “Snufkin knows all about the weather, don’t you Snuf?”

“I don’t know _everything_ about it,” Snufkin said, “But I have to keep a close eye on it when I travel. You only need to get frostnipped toes once before you learn to wear an extra pair of socks.”

Little My _tsked!_ at the boys and scurried off, leaving them alone. The rain meant Snufkin had to stay inside all day, much to Moomintroll’s secret delight. Normally a little Spring shower wouldn’t deter Snufkin, but this downpour was positively _icy_ , and after some convincing from Moomintroll he’d agreed it was better to pack up camp and spend the day indoors. They’d helped out with some chores around the house, and after that they played cards and read. It had been _hours_ and he was starting to get bored. He’d planned to gather fiddleferns as a favor for Moominmamma and get some birdwatching in while he did, but the rain simply wouldn’t _stop_.

“I haven’t seen rain like this in a long while,” Moomintroll mused, gazing out the window. “Usually we don’t get big storms until Summer rolls around.”

“I know,” agreed Snufkin. He carefully placed a Queen of Hearts onto the house of cards he and Moomintroll had been idly building after they’d finished yet another round of Rummy. “Did I tell you about the ice storm I ran into this Winter?”

“No!” Moomintroll said, sitting up and nearly knocking down their cards, always eager for a good story. “Tell me!”

“I was along the southern coast,” started Snufkin, settling into the old familiar rhythm of storytelling, “I’d gone to a little village there to trade for supplies. The locals weren’t terribly friendly, so I decided to find my own supper rather than stay in town. I could see the storm coming so I tried to be quick, but the tide pools were so beautiful that I admit I got distracted.” He smiled sheepishly at Moomintroll, who nodded for him to continue.

“I met a strange man on the beach named Lumi,” he continued, delighting in the way Moomintroll’s eyes lit up. He loved hearing about the interesting people Snufkin met most of all. “He was a vagabond like me, I think. I’m sorry to say he was extremely rude, and he was eating _raw sea urchins_. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen.”

“Raw sea urchins, you say?” called Moominpappa from the kitchen. “I’ve tried them before. Not terribly appetizing, I assure you.”

“It didn’t look like it. It looked like little orange tongues,” Snufkin said with a grimace. Moomintroll stuck his own tongue out and shuddered in commiseration. “So, I got away from him as quickly as I could and found myself a cozy little cave in the sea cliff to cook in. But I had a problem,” he leaned forward, speaking more urgently as he got into the meat of the tale. “The wood I gathered just wouldn’t light, and it took me much longer than usual to get the fire going and start frying the clams I’d gathered. _So_ long that I didn’t notice that the storm was _right on top of me_.”

Moomintroll’s eyes went wide.

“The tide had also risen, and before I knew it the waves were coming right into my cave. It washed away all my clams and tried to steal my pack too, but I caught it just in time. But—” he lowered his voice further, “I was nearly swept out to sea myself.”

“What did you do then?” Moomintroll asked, enthralled. He was always the best audience, Snufkin thought.

“I grabbed a stalagmite just in time and managed to pull myself back up,” he said. In truth, he’d gotten banged around a lot by the rushing water and grabbing for a handhold almost hadn’t worked, but he didn’t tell Moomintroll that. “I was soaked through, and so was all my firewood. I managed to start a little fire with the emergency tinder in my pack. I had to wait all through the night for the storm to go away.”

“You must have frozen half to death!”

“It was very, _very_ cold,” said Snufkin. Yes, _very_ cold. So cold he’d had a hard time staying conscious. So cold he was certain he would freeze solid and die, but Moomin didn’t need to know that either. He banished the terror of the memory from his mind and pressed on, “My poor toes were icicles! It was like the Groke herself was in the cave with me. But then, guess who showed up? It was Lumi!”

“The rude man from the beach?”

“The very same. I think he only meant to pester me but he must have seen what a pinch I was in. _Somehow_ he built up my fire again and helped me get warm.”

“Wow,” said Moomintroll. “I guess he wasn’t so bad after all.”

“Oh, he was still quite rude,” Snufkin said with a chuckle. “But he let me borrow his jacket and an extra blanket and gave me a strange potion to drink. He called it White Lightning—"

“White Lightning?” repeated Moominpappa, suddenly sticking his head out around the doorway to the kitchen. “He had _White Lightning_?”

“Yes, have you ever tried it?” Snufkin asked. Moominpappa rubbed his snout in thought.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “Only once. Your old dad Joxter used to carry a little flask of it. It was very restorative, though it tasted like swallowing a hot coal.”

Snufkin smiled; he liked to imagine his father as an intrepid explorer, even if in his heart he knew it was a bit childish. Still, a potion like White Lightning did seem like the kind of thing an adventurer would carry.

“That’s _exactly_ what it tasted like, like a hot pepper but more bitter. Still, it did its job. I was warmed up and feeling better almost right away.”

“I would like to try that someday, if I ever wake up in the middle of winter again,” Moomintroll said.

“It would light you up like a bonfire, you wouldn’t be able to sleep for weeks!” Snufkin said, and they both laughed.

“So Lumi saved you?” Moomintroll prompted after they’d finished giggling.

“He did. I told him all about Moominvalley and he said he might visit in the Spring sometime. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, even if he did ask a lot of prying questions and ate the most disgusting things.”

“So, if any of us come a across a rude stranger peddling suspicious potions we know who to blame!” said Little My as she scampered though the room again.

“If you have any complaints you can file them right into my campfire, thank you very much,” Snufkin said, turning his nose up and doing his best Mrs. Fillyjonk impression. Moomintroll collapsed into giggles again and Snufkin felt a bloom of pleasure color his cheeks.

He really didn’t mind the thought of seeing Lumi again, even if he was one the strangest people he’d ever met. He didn’t appreciate the way he’d commented on Snufkin’s age or his absentee parents, and he talked a lot of nonsense about _Fae,_ whatever those were, and, well… he was _unsettling_. Not unlike coming upon some night creature in the woods, seeing their eyes flash out of the darkness and not knowing how long they’d been watching you.

Still, Moominvalley was the most beautiful place in the world, especially in Spring. Perhaps its beauty would soften up even a prickly old creature like Lumi.

 

 

The next day the cold rain had passed on, leaving the sky clear as a crystal. High up in the foothills, a strange man looked down into the shallow, green bowl of the valley, squinting in the light even under the brim of his red hat.

He took a deep sniff of the air, sorting through the scents in his mind. Mountain air, snowmelt, spring blooms, and _magic_.

It had occurred to him during his long, roundabout trek to Moominvalley that he may have been jumping to conclusions regarding the young boy he’d met that past Winter. It was so brief a meeting, after all, and perhaps the boy had been telling tales. Perhaps he was a great fool to come here expecting to meet him again. Perhaps he was setting himself up for failure and humiliation and should just keep on walking, onwards to his usual Spring haunt in the still-frozen northern mountains.

“Perhaps I’m a bloody coward,” he snarled to himself. The boy knew too many specifics for him to be making things up. His face, his age, his _mother_ … it all lined up. The facts were the facts, there was nothing else for it. Plus, the scent of magic in the air confirmed his other suspicions. If he wanted more proof, the way the land seemed to sigh like a lover under his feet served well enough. Not only was the boy _here_ , he’d been leaking latent power all over the place like an overexcited puppy. It was only a couple of weeks into Spring and already the flowers here were blooming like mad and the air was laden when the scent of growth. Not at all the type of place a hibernal Fae sought out.

With a huff, he started down the hillside, telling himself to get a grip. He was _Joxaren_ , Son of Snow, Herald of the Storm. He was _not_ afraid of reuniting with his son and telling him the truth he was owed. 

If he even wanted the truth at all. He didn’t _need_ it, that much was clear. If he’d truly been taking care of himself for his whole life then what need would he have for a father? Joxaren certainly never needed one.

He leapt lightly across a stream, disturbing a nearby flock of thrushes and sending them whirling into the air. He tracked them for a moment, considering giving chase for a light snack, but decided against it. If the directions he’d gleaned from others on the road were correct, he had all day to walk before he reached Moomin’s house. He intended to take his time, getting a feel for the place.

Joxaren put one foot in front of the other, watching for molehills and stones in his path that could trip him up. That was the Way: walk the Earth, observe the cycle of the year, be loyal to Mother Winter. The seasons rolled on, and the Way was his way; it was the center of his world and the one constancy he believed in. Children were born and grew up and lived their lives whether you wanted them to or not. No matter what happened, he would carry on as he always had. He hiked his pack up on his back and pressed on.

 

 

That night, after Moomintroll and Moominmamma had gone to bed, Moominpappa stepped outside to gather up wood for the next day’s breakfast fire.

Snufkin’s story had been very interesting, but not for the reasons the boys had thought. He’d been thinking about the man he’d told them of, this _Lumi_ , all day. It had reminded him of the taste of White Lightning, blazing a trail down his throat, and of the way old Joxter’s eyes shone in even in faint light. He hadn’t heard from his old friend in years and frankly he’d wondered if he was still alive.

Did nature spirits die? Could they? He knew Joxter was some kind of magic creature, but he never learned much more than that. Joxter had always dodged Moominpappa’s questions and answered them with his own teasing inquiries. _Why are you so curious? Are you looking to write a book about me? If you do, be sure to emphasize how good-looking I am. I want to be remembered as a handsome rake so pretty, young girls will sigh after me for generations to come._

Moominpappa would laugh, distracted by Joxter’s silliness, and reply with something like: _The only thing they’ll sigh about is what a tiresome, lazy beast you are!_ Then they’d talk about something else. Joxter wasn’t subtle when he wanted to change the subject, but Moominpappa had never minded. Everyone deserved a secret or two, after all.

It couldn’t have been Joxter that Snufkin had met. If they’d miraculously run into each other on the road Joxter wouldn’t have gone by an alias, would he? He’d been so fond of the Mymble, he’d surely be thrilled to learn she’d had his son… No, it had to be some other wanderer.

He pulled the tarp off the woodpile and slowly began to pick out a few likely pieces of tinder. The moon was very bright even if it was just half-full, he hadn’t even needed a lantern, and the crickets were signing prettily. It was such a beautiful night, maybe he’d have a smoke outside for a while.  Moominmamma was already in bed, she wouldn’t mind him joining her a little late…

_Snap, crack…_

Moominpappa’s ears pricked up and the tuft of his tail twitched. That sounded like footsteps in the brush. Deliberately, he put the wood he’d selected aside and made a show of stretching and cracking his spine. His ears seemed to burn as he strained to hear…

 _There!_ More snapping of twigs underfoot and the susurration of someone walking slowly through tall grass. Coming closer, now. It was something big; not _Booble_ big, but bigger than a fox or wildcat.

Moominpappa took a deep breath…

“Ah- _ha!_ ”

He whirled around, fists and hackles raised.

“Sneak up on me, will you!? I’ll show you what— _Joxter_ , is that you?”

On the edge of the light spilling out the kitchen window stood what looked like his old friend. Moominpappa peered into the shadows and, _yes!_ There was the tattered red hat, the strange shining eyes, the wild black hair.

“Hello Moomin, or should I say _Moominpappa?_ Please don’t thrash me, I haven’t even said anything offensive yet!” said Joxter, smiling and opening his arms.

Speak of the devil! Moominpappa laughed and went to his friend. They shared a tight embrace and then separated, looking each other over, noting all the changes that came with the passing of too many years apart. Of course, Joxter looked very much the same as he ever did, Moominpappa noted wistfully. Being a wizard (or something like it) certainly preserved one’s youthful looks.

“It’s a good thing I recognized you, you old devil, otherwise I’d have taken you for a prowler,” Moominpappa said.

“Am I _not_ a prowler? Oh dear, I must be losing my edge. Excuse me, I need to go commit some property crimes before people start thinking I’ve gone soft!” Joxter suddenly turned as though to scurry off, but Moominpappa clapped him on the shoulder.

“No, no, come back!” he said, snickering. “You’re still very scary, I promise. I’ll fight you right now if you like.”

Joxter grinned, “Ugh, I would, but I’d hate to invoke the wrath of your wife.”

“Moominmamma is quite fierce,” Moominpappa agreed. “Come inside, why don’t you? I’ll make us a cuppa. The rest of the family’s gone upstairs so we’ll just need to be quiet.”

They went inside, closing the back door behind them with care. Joxter sat on the counter while Moominpappa put together a pot of tea.

“You’ve got a nice place here,” Joxter said, taking a steaming cup from Moominpappa. “Very cozy.”

“It’s not a creaky, leaky old ship, I know, but it has its charms,” Moominpappa said. He sat down and looked his old friend over one more time. He still looked so _young_ , all except for the eyes. They looked… darker, somehow. Not in color, but in mood.

“Where have you been all these years, Joxter? It’s been so _long_ since you last sent a letter and I never know where to address one for you.”

“Oh, things are as they’ve always been. I still travel, though I must say the adventures are a little less exciting without you and the old gang. I usually spend this time of year up the northern mountains, but I decided to take a little detour this time around. What about you?”

“I’m writing my memoires,” said Moominpappa proudly, “And living the busy life of a patriarch.”

 “How every _respectable_ of you,” Joxter teased. They both chuckled into their tea. “Tell me about your family,” he continued after a moment, “A little bird told me you’ve got quite the young lad.”

“Moomintroll,” Moominpappa said. “He’s a good boy, very kindhearted and clever like his mamma.” He sipped his tea and looked at Joxter over the rim of his cup. “You can meet him, if you’re planning on staying…”

“Of course, I’d love to,” said Joxter. His tail lashed about a little, then grew still.  Moominpappa swirled his tea around a bit, considering.

“And I suppose you could meet young Snufkin as well, though I have a sneaking suspicion you may have done that already, _Lumi_.”

Joxter choked on a mouthful of tea. Moominpappa stood and whacked him on the back and then took his cup from him; the remaining liquid had frozen solid.

There was silence in the kitchen. Moominpappa put the teacups in the sink and then rifled around the cabinet for a bit until he found what he needed: a half-full bottle of cloudberry wine. He uncorked it and poured a small glass for himself before handing the bottle off to Joxter.

The Fae took a long sip off the bottle and sighed. Moominpappa cocked a brow at him.

“Have the birds been speaking to you as well?” Joxter asked quietly.

“No, just your _son_. He told Moomintroll a strange story about a rude man who ate raw urchins and drank White Lightning. To be honest I wasn’t sure if it was you until just now, I only had my suspicions. Did you really save Snufkin from freezing?”

“I—yes, I did,” Joxter’s face was very red as he took another drink. “I had no idea who he was, Moomin, none at _all_. I found him in that cave and he was in a very bad way, half frozen to death. He started _talking_ , first about you and then about your old stories. When he brought up Mymble _that’s_ when it hit me.”

“Welcome to fatherhood,” Moominpappa said simply. Joxter gave a harsh bark of laughter.

“Indeed, and what a father I’ve been,” Joxter muttered, tail lashing. 

“If you’d figured it out then and there why on Earth didn’t you say anything?” Moominpappa asked.

“I don’t know!” Joxter exclaimed. “Moomin,” he looked at his old friend, pale eyes wild, “He said he travelled _alone_. For how _long_? What happened to him? Where was his mother in all this? Why didn’t she _tell_ me?”

Moominpappa took a sip of his drink. “I don’t know any more than you about that, Joxter. You know Mymble, you know how forgetful she is…”

“How could she forget our _son?_ How could she tell me _nothing_ —"

“Pappa, who are you talking to?”

Both men froze at the quiet voice coming down the stairs. Moominmamma came into view and stopped dead in the kitchen doorway, her eyes darting between her husband and the strange creature sitting on her counter. Moominpappa cleared his throat.

“My dear, this is my old friend Joxter.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” she said. “Sir, unless you are here to make amends with your son I’m afraid you and I will be having _words_.”

“I am here to do just that, Madam,” Joxter said, hollow as an ice cave.

“Mamma, he didn’t know,” Moominpappa said. “You remember Snufkin’s story about the ice storm? Joxter was the Lumi fellow Snufkin met. Before that he had no idea Snufkin even existed, Mymble never told him.”

Moominmamma huffed and shook her head, “That woman, I _swear_ … Give me a sip of that, dearest.”

Joxter set his bottle down with a _thunk_ and buried his face in his hands. “I’m an idiot,” he said. “I should have said something when I first realized, I just… I’m a coward.”

“A little bit, yes,” said Moominmamma, just as Moominpappa was saying “No, not at all.”

The two Moomins shared a glance before Moominmamma sighed and patted Joxter on the knee.

“You have a chance to fix what was broken,” she said. “Not everyone has that, you know. Snufkin is a wonderful young man, and he’s very dear to us. You should get to know him.”

Joxter nodded. “I do wish to know him. The real question is whether or know he wants to know _me_. I wouldn’t blame him if I reintroduced myself and he told me to go kick rocks.”

“He _is_ very independent,” Moominpappa said.

“That’s just a risk you’ll have to take,” said Moominmamma. “Snufkin is—well, he’s very capable, but I worry about him sometimes. He’s been on his own for such a long time, I can’t imagine what that was like when he was very young.”

“Your family has taken good care of him,” Joxter said, “That’s much more than I can say for his.”

The three sat in silence for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Joxter downed the remainder of the wine and hopped lightly off the counter.

“I should go,” he muttered. “I’ve kept you from your bed long enough.”

“Won’t you stay the night?” Moominmamma said. “We have a spare bedroom, or you could sleep on the sofa if you prefer.”

“No bed for me, thanks, though if you don’t mind I’ll kip up in that lovely tree you have outside.”

“Of course,” Moominpappa said. “You can come in any time you like if you change your mind. Our doors are always unlocked, not that a locked door ever stopped you, eh?”

“You know me so well!” Joxter said with a small grin. And then he was gone, slipping out the back door like a ghost.

Moominmamma sighed. “I do hope he doesn’t lose his nerve and run off.”

“He won’t,” Moominpappa said, though in his heart of hearts he worried about the same thing. “He’s an odd creature but when he sets his mind to something he follows through. I wonder if I shouldn’t help him and Snufkin meet somehow, perhaps if we had a dinner party or something—”

“I think we should let him figure it out himself. If he’s anything like Snufkin he won’t like a great scene.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” said Moominpappa. “Let’s go to bed, all this excitement has worn me out.”

He and Moominmamma left the kitchen and went upstairs, never seeing the little white shadow that peeked out from behind the sofa, looking after them with shocked blue eyes.

 

 

Snufkin almost always woke with the dawn and was ready for the day before the sun fully rose. He enjoyed the in-between times when the world wasn’t fully awake and bustling, when the mist was just starting to recede, and the birds were singing their greetings to each other. Spring mornings in Moominvalley were bright and cool, the perfect weather for fishing.

He sat down on the bridge near the Moominhouse, scenting the crisp air as he baited his hook and settled down to wait for his breakfast to show up… and for Moomintroll to come find him. Perhaps they could go egg hunting along the riverside or simply spend the day hiking in the woods. They’d spent _all day_ yesterday indoors, waiting out the rain and helping Moominmamma around the house. He longed to for a good walk and a good talk, or maybe just time to be quiet with his dearest friend. He looked skyward, measuring the time; he probably had an hour or so to wait, as Moomintroll usually took a little while to get ready. The troll liked waking slowly and eating a leisurely breakfast before heading outside.

Which was why it was so surprising to hear someone cry “Snufkin! _Snufkiiiin!”_ almost as soon as he dropped his hook in the water.

He tilted his hat back to peer through the last of the mist to see Moomintroll come barreling down the path from his house. The troll ran up the bridge and skidded to a stop, tail lashing and eyes blazing.

“Well, _you’re_ up early,” Snufkin said with a smile. “Come to catch breakfast with me? You forgot your fishing pole.”

“I hardly slept at all,” Moomintroll said breathily. “You’ll never believe what happened last night!”

“Well, sit down before you tell me, you’re about to fall in,” Snufkin said, taking Moomintroll’s paw and pulling him down to sit next to him. Moomintroll drummed his paws on his knees and tried to catch his breath. After a few moments he said again,

“You won’t believe what happened. I was just about to go to sleep when I heard Mamma and Pappa talking downstairs.”

“Oh?”

“So, I snuck, _er_ , sneaked? Down the stairs to listen in—”

“Eavesdropping is a great way to learn things you don’t want to know,” Snufkin cautioned with a teasing smile.

“Yes, I know, but I couldn’t _help_ it, especially because there was a _stranger_ down in the kitchen with them.”

“A stranger?” Snufkin said. All sorts passed through the valley and the Moomin family seemed to know almost all of them, so an actual stranger visiting in the night was an odd thing. “You didn’t know them at all?”

“Well, yes and no,” said Moomintroll. “I’d heard of him even if I’d never met him myself,” he grinned, so excited he was practically vibrating.

“Don’t lead me on, who was it?” Snufkin asked.

“It was me,” came a voice from behind them.

Both boys jumped, Snufkin scrambling to keep from dropping his fishing rod. He turned and cried out,

_“Lumi!”_

The strange man he’d met all those months ago was crouched on the railing on the bridge, grinning like a fox.

“It’s _you!”_ Moomintroll said, clutching at his chest. His eyes were big as saucers and the tuft of his tail was puffed up like a cotton ball.

“Indeed, it is,” said Lumi, giving Moomintroll a very toothy grin.

Snufkin stood and held out his paw, “I hadn’t expected to see you so early in the season, Lumi.”

Lumi gave Snufkin’s paw a quick shake. “Yes, well, with the way you went on about this place I had to come have a look-see.”

“Moomintroll, this is the fellow I was telling you about, the one who helped me when I got caught in that ice storm.”

“Nice to properly meet you, Moomintroll, though if I heard correctly you got an earful of me last night,” said Lumi, still with that same smile, showing his teeth.

Moomintroll turned pink under his fur, “I—I apologize for eavesdropping, Lumi,” he muttered, fiddling anxiously with his puffy tail-tip. “I just—”

“Think nothing of it, we weren’t talking of anything of consequence,” Lumi said, hopping down from the railing. “Looks like you got a bite, by the by.”

“Oh!” Snufkin turned to see his line was being tugged.

He turned swiftly to reel in his catch, and when he turned back Moomintroll was even pinker. Lumi, for his part, looked serene as a Summer’s day. Snufkin dropped the fish in his bucket and started rebaiting his hook.

“The fish are biting quickly today,” he said. “Would you two like to join me for breakfast? If we’re lucky I can catch a few more and it’ll be a proper feast.”

“I’ll never turn down a free meal,” Lumi said. He stepped down from the railing and cocked his head at Moomintroll. “What about you, young Moomin? Your parents were very welcoming, I’d like to get to know you as well.”

Moomintroll had the strangest expression on his face, like he’d swallowed a fly. Snufkin wondered if Lumi’s sudden appearance had truly spooked him; the man _was_ very strange and wild-looking.

“Yes, I—of course!” Moomintroll said eagerly. “I’ll sit with you while you fish, Snufkin.” And then he plopped down on Snufkin’s right side, paws clasped in his lap with his back straight and tail all aquiver.

“I don’t suppose you have a little coffee, do you? I arrived quite late last night,” Lumi said, dropping into a relaxed sprawl on Snufkin’s left.

Now bracketed on either side, Snufkin started to get a strange feeling. He glanced at Moomintroll, who smiled at him but still glanced nervously at Lumi.

“I don’t have any coffee, I used up the last of mine last week,” Snufkin said. “I have some dried chamomile for tea, though.”

“Hardly breakfast without coffee, and chamomile’s for sleeping,” Lumi sighed.

Snufkin’s fishing line gave a great tug. “Another already! The fish _are_ very bitey this morning.” He reeled in his line and dropped another good-sized fish in his bucket. “Moomin, do you have coffee at home? I’m inclined to agree with Lumi.”

“Yes, of course,” Moomintroll said quietly. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment before jumping up very suddenly. “I’ll go make some right up. I’ll be quick!” And then the troll was off, sprinting down the path back to the house. Out of the corner of his eye, Snufkin could see him look over his shoulder several times before closing the front door behind him.

“Moomintroll seems out of sorts,” Snufkin said.

“He got caught red handed,” said Lumi with a snort. “I really don’t mind that he listened in when I spoke with his parents. I was simply introducing myself so I could sleep in their tree last night. It is funny to see him all shook up, though.”

“I told him how we met this past Winter, he was probably very excited to meet you,” Snufkin said.

“How was the rest of _your_ Winter?” Lumi asked, pale eyes intent. “No more braving ice storms, I hope.”

“Only one before I got to the far South,” Snufkin said with a smile. “Though I kept my head on straight and stayed away from sea caves.”

“Glad to hear it. I’m a busy man, you know, I can’t spend all my time rescuing little Mumriks from their own silliness.”

“What would the world do without you?” Snufkin said, rolling his eyes. Lumi was just as flippant as he remembered.

“Drown, probably. Or die of boredom,” Lumi said, lying back with his paws behind his head. He crossed his feet at the ankles and Snufkin noticed for the first time that he wore no shoes. He had furry, padded feet much like Snufkin did, though his fur was inky black where Snufkin’s was reddish-brown. His claws were longer as well and looked a little sharper. He’d originally assumed Lumi was a Mumrik like himself or maybe a very strange Mymble, but he wasn’t certain. Lumi had called himself a _Fae_ and seemed to think Snufkin was one as well.

It didn’t much matter, in his opinion. He was _Snufkin_ before he was a Mumrik, and all other creatures were themselves before anything else. If Lumi wanted to call himself a ‘Fae’ then that was his business. If he thought Snufkin was a Fae or part-Fae or whatever then he was quite mad, but a little madness was natural in all things.

“I must say I thought you were being romantic about Moominvalley, but it really is lovely,” Lumi said. “It has a sort of _magic_ , don’t you think?”

“Oh, certainly,” Snufkin said. Moominvalley _was_ magical, he’d always thought so, and he was pleased to hear Lumi thought the same.

“Do you always spend your Springs here?” Lumi asked.

“Yes, ever since I started living on my own,” Snufkin said. “Oop, another bite.” He reeled in a third fish and dropped it in the bucket. Three fish was enough for three people, so he stowed his fishing things and simply sat, watching the golden morning light on the stream and listening to the sound of bees buzzing in the flowers.

“And where did you live before that?” Lumi asked.

“An orphanage,” Snufkin said, and stopped there. He didn’t like to think of that time. Life was so much better now; he didn’t like to waste the energy thinking about that old place with it’s cold stone walls and iron gates. So much the better that it was mostly forgotten, shrouded in the fog of long-ago memory.

Lumi didn’t ask any more questions. A few moments passed, and then they heard Moomintroll hollering as he came bounding up the path, basket in one paw and percolator in the other.

“Coffee!” he sang out when he got to the bridge. “Oh, you caught more fish! That was fast.”

“Yes, I think there must be a big school passing through,” said Snufkin. “Let’s go back to my camp, I’ll cook.”

“No need to cook for me,” said Lumi. He snatched a fish out of the bucket and ripped the head clean off with his sharp teeth. Once he’d chewed and swallowed, he grinned that toothy grin again, seeming to delight in the two boys’ utter disgust. “Shall we? Lead the way, Snufkin!”

And so, they all ambled off to Snufkin’s campsite for breakfast. Snufkin and Moomin walked slightly ahead of Lumi, so they didn’t see him give the stream a jaunty salute for its assistance with the fish, nor did they see the stream wave back.


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks passed. Spring matured into Summer and Lumi settled in like he’d always lived in Moominvalley. At first Snufkin had grown a little worried that his new friend’s presence would cut in on his alone time or his special time with Moomintroll, but it seemed Lumi had his own plans. He’d spend a day with Snufkin, ranging around the valley or wiling away the hours near the Moominhouse, and then he’d disappear for a few days, off on some unknown quest. He’d always return without warning, usually with some token to show Snufkin and the others, like a small chunk of quartz he’d dug up or pretty bird feathers he’d collected.

He also spent a good deal of time with Moominpappa and Moominmamma. They’d all retreat to Moominpappa’s study to ‘have tea’, or they’d talk quietly in the sitting room, always clamming up when Moomintroll and Snufkin came in the house.

“I wish they’d at least _pretend_ to not be keeping secrets,” Moomintroll complained one especially hot afternoon as they lounged on a shady creekbank with Snorkmaiden and Little My. “They do it even when you’re not there, Snufkin. I’ll pass by and suddenly it’s all _whisper, whisper, whisper!”_

“I don’t mind if they want to keep secrets,” Snufkin said, plucking an aster and twisting it into a loop. “It’s probably not very interesting, anyway. You know how ‘grown-up’ conversations go, it’s usually all about house renovations and money and gardening.”

“ _You_ like gardening,” Little My said. She’d joined them (as she sometimes did, whether they wanted her to or not) out of nowhere. She’d immediately taken Snufkin’s hat as a hostage and was filling it with dandelion heads. “Do you have _no_ interest in what they’re talking about?”

“None whatsoever,” Snufkin said. He undid the loop he’d made from the aster and then retied it around Moomintroll’s tail. Moomintroll blushed and curled their tails together, smiling.

“ _I_ want to know,” Snorkmaiden said. “They could be planning something big, maybe for the Midsummer party!”

“Or they could be sharing dirty secrets,” Little My suggested. “ _Dark_ secrets. Lumi’s a wild man, I bet he’s done a lot of nasty things.” She waggled her brows at Moomintroll, who coughed nervously.

“I don’t think my Mamma and Pappa would associate with someone _truly_ bad,” he said.

“Theft,” Little My said, dropping Snufkin’s hat and approaching Moomintroll on all fours like a stalking cat. “Murder. _Loitering_.” She crawled up into Moomintroll’s face and grinned horridly, “ _Bastard_ children.”

Moomintroll squeaked. Snorkmaiden tried to shoo Little My out of Moomintroll’s space but the Mymble snapped at her.

“My, don’t use words like that,” Snufkin said. He couldn’t abide curses, not when he’d had so many hurled at him as a very young wanderer.

“And why not?” Little My asked, turning narrowed eyes on Snufkin. “I’m a _bastard_ , and so are you. We can use it if we want to.”

“It’s a foul word,” Snufkin said, glaring right back at her, “And it’s cruel. Whoever someone’s parents are shouldn’t matter.”

“Oh, I know that, but then I know both my parents. I should _hope_ their nonsense doesn’t affect me too much,” Little My said, now stalking Snufkin, who only cocked a brow at her. “You can’t tell me you never think about Mamma and your father.”

“Of course I do,” Snufkin said, forcing his voice to stay calm. He would not get upset at My, not on such a lovely day. He _wouldn’t_. “I just don’t care about them.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Little My.

 “Snufkin has all the family he needs, _and_ he can take care of himself,” Moomintroll said. He scooted closer to Snufkin and glared at Little My too, for solidarity.

“My,” Snorkmaiden chimed in, “Leave it, it’s none of your business.”

“Or maybe it’s none to _your_ business,” Little My said, standing up and pointing sharply at Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden. “He just said he didn’t care about _our_ Mamma; I think I have a right to be miffed at that.”

“You can feel however you want, it doesn’t mean I have to care,” Snufkin said. Snorkmaiden tittered behind her paws and Moomintroll shot Little My a pleading look. “If all you’re going to do is stir up bad feelings then you should leave.”

“Fine then, if I’m the only one who wants to talk about anything that matters while the rest of you make daisy chains and talk about _nothing_ then I will go!” My shrieked. She kicked Snufkin’s hat at him, scattering dandelion heads everywhere, and ran off through the tall grass, calling out curse words as she went.

“What’s her problem? We were having such a nice time,” Snorkmaiden huffed, gathering the dandelions into a pile.

“She’s just sensitive about her Mamma,” Snufkin said quietly, picking up his hat and dusting it off. He was starting to get a headache. It wasn’t like Little My to bring up their relation to each other and it irked him that she was all up in arms about it.

“I’m sorry she brought all that up, she should know better than to bother you about it,” Moomintroll said, patting Snufkin’s arm.

“I _don’t_ care about it, it doesn’t _bother_ me,” Snufkin insisted. He tore up another aster and started plucking at the petals. It was very hot, that was why he was so irritable.

“It’s alright if you _don’t_ care, we all know that,” Moomintroll said. “It’s also alright if you do.”

“I _know!”_ Snufkin snapped, much more harshly than he’d intended. He could feel Moomintroll tense up beside him and guilt flooded his heart, hot and sickly. “I—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s alright,” Moomintroll muttered.

“I’m going to go take a nap,” Snufkin stood up, leaving Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden sitting wide-eyed and confused on the grass. “I have a headache, it’s too hot out. I’ll see you both tonight, maybe.”

“Snufkin—” Moomintroll started, but Snufkin was gone, marching up the bank and off into the trees. He desperately wanted to follow but he knew when Snufkin needed space. Snorkmaiden rubbed his back to comfort him.

“Ugh, so much drama,” She said. “Well, I actually love a bit of drama, but not _this_ kind where everyone just ends up with hurt feelings and storming off.”

“I don’t like it at all,” Moomintroll said, fiddling with the aster ring on his tail.

“Snufkin will get over it,” Snorkmaiden said, reassuringly. “Give it an hour or two and he’ll be back with flowers for you.”

“Hmm,” Moomintroll hummed, still fussing with his tail. “Snorkmaiden,” he said suddenly, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Ooh, _now_ who has a secret?” she said in an exaggerated whisper. She grinned but her face fell when she saw Moomintroll’s eyes grow sad. “Yes, I can keep a secret, if you want to tell me one.”

“Okay, but I _mean_ it. It’s pretty serious, you can’t tell _anyone_ ,” Moomintroll insisted, scooting over to her so their heads were bent together.

“I won’t,” Snorkmaiden promised.

“Okay,” Moomintroll took a deep breath and bent forward to speak quietly in Snorkmaiden’s ear. “Lumi is Snufkin’s father, the Joxter.”

 _“He is?!”_ Snorkmaiden cried.

“ _Shhhh_ , Snorkmaiden!” Moomintroll hissed.

“ _Sorry, sorry_ ,” Snorkmaiden said, hiding her mouth behind her paws. “Are you sure? Where’d you hear that?” She continued in a whisper.

“When Lumi showed up a while ago I heard him talking in the kitchen with Mamma and Pappa. Pappa called him ‘Joxter’ and they were all talking about Snufkin. He’s come to tell Snufkin the truth about who he is.”

“I thought the Joxter didn’t know about Snufkin at all,” Snorkmaiden said. “Your Pappa said he’d run off before he was even born.”

“He didn’t, but I think he sort of… put two and two together when they met and Snufkin told him about us.”

“Wow,” Snorkmaiden said. “Have _you_ told Snufkin?”

“No,” Moomintroll said, fretfully. “I wanted to but I—I don’t know, it seems wrong to do it before Lumi, uh, _Joxter_ , even gets a chance.”

“But he hasn’t told Snufkin yet, right?”

“I don’t think so, no. Snufkin would have told me if he had.”

“Hmph,” Snorkmaiden crossed her arms. “He’s been here for ages and he hasn’t said anything to his own son? That doesn’t seem right.”

“No, I don’t think so either,” Moomintroll said, flopping back in a miserable sprawl. “He really should have told Snufkin right away, but he hasn’t and I really, _really_ think Snufkin has to a right to know but…” he trailed off with a groan. “Anyway, I wish I could say something to Snufkin, but I know it’s not my place.”

“That is sticky,” Snorkmaiden agreed. “Oh, this is pretty romantic, though, right? Long-lost relatives and everything?”

“I hate it, I hate feeling like I’m lying to Snufkin,” Moomintroll huffed. “ _Please_ don’t say anything to anyone.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Snorkmaiden said, taking Moomintroll’s paw in hers. “Though, maybe… Maybe if Joxter stays all Summer and _still_ doesn’t say anything to Snufkin… or if he _leaves_ before saying anything, then maybe you should go ahead and tell him. He does have a right to know the truth.”

“You really think so?” Moomintroll said, furrowing his brow.

“Yes,” Snorkmaiden said. “If Lumi hangs around all Summer and doesn’t tell the truth then it’s not fair. _I_ would want to know if someone I knew was my long-lost dad.”

“Maybe Snufkin wouldn’t even care,” Moomintroll said. “He _says_ he doesn’t, but I think… I think he does, a little. I think… I think he deserves to know, and he can do whatever he wants with knowing. I only hope he won’t be too angry with me for keeping it from him for all this time.”

 Snorkmaiden hummed in agreement. Snufkin very, _very_ rarely got angry, but when he did it was awful. They sat on the bank for a while longer until Moomintroll felt so tired and sick with worry that he had to go home. Snorkmaiden watched him go with concern; he was so dear to her, and she knew how he felt about Snufkin. Drama _could_ be fun but knowing it could end up hurting her friends ruined any enjoyment and left her feeling cold and unhappy.

 

 

June came around like a ripening fruit, and soon Midsummer was almost upon them. Moominmamma wanted to make a lingonberry-themed dessert table for their annual party, so she recruited the whole family for a berry picking trip. Little My of soon declared it to be a berry picking _contest_ and got both Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden all riled up.

“You’ll be on my team, Snorkmaiden,” Moomintroll said, taking her arm. He gave her a wink and turned to Snufkin, who was helping Moominmamma pack a picnic basket. “Snufkin, you should team up with Lumi.”

“Not with you?” Snufkin asked.

“No, you two know the forest too well, it wouldn’t be fair to pair you up,” Snorkmaiden insisted.

“Alright, if Lumi wants to,” Snufkin said. He doubted Lumi was the competitive type, but then again the wild man was always full of surprises. “What about Little My?”

“I don’t need a team!” Little My declared, climbing on the kitchen table and standing to her full height with paws on her hips. “I’ll beat all of you all by myself!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Snufkin said with a smile.

“Snufkin, it’s a _contest_ , you can’t just surrender before it’s even started!” Moomintroll cried, throwing his paws up in a parody of despair.

“And it takes all the fun out of it. How am I supposed to get any joy out of thrashing you if you don’t even try?” Little My demanded.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Snufkin said, waggling his eyebrows at her. Little My _harrumphed_ and jumped off the table. She was out the back door in a flash, letting the door slam behind her.

“Oh, that’s brilliant,” chuckled Snorkmaiden. “Seriously though, Moomin and I are going to destroy you and Lumi _and_ Little My. We’re going to be _swimming_ in lingonberries.”

“Don’t denude the whole forest while you’re at it or the birds and other little beasts will have nothing to eat,” cautioned Moominmamma.

“Of course, of course,” Moomintroll said, but he had a gleam in his eye that said Moominmamma would soon be the proud owner of a million lingonberries.

They set out early to beat the heat. It was already shaping up to be a beautiful day; the sky was so blue Snufkin could almost taste it, like blueberry jam and fluffy white scones. Midsummer was his second favorite time of year, after Spring. The fruits of the forest were ripening and the fish in the streams had gotten fat and delicious.

“I’ve never been to a Midsummer party before, or not a _real_ one anyway,” Lumi said. “The Winter Solstice has always been more to my taste.”

“The Moomins always have a big party, you’ll enjoy it,” Snufkin said.

“There’s music and dancing and Mamma makes the most delicious dishes. I’m not going to eat for the whole day before so I can have as much lingonberry pie as I can manage,” Moomintroll said proudly.

“Perhaps I’ll follow your example, though I’m not much for skipping meals unless it’s truly worth it,” said Lumi. “Do you perform at these parties, Snufkin? You’re very good with your harmonica.”

“Sometimes, when it’s a little later in the evening and things wind down,” Snufkin said. “I feel better if there aren’t so many people watching.”

“He gets stage fright,” Little My said in a loud, exaggerated ‘whisper’.

“Thanks, My,” Snufkin said, wrinkling his nose at her.

“It’s a shame, you play so well when it’s just us,” Moomintroll said. Snufkin gave him a secret little smile while Little My made gagging noises and ran off ahead to walk with the other Moomins and Snorkmaiden.

They arrived in the part of the forest with the most lingonberries after about an hour’s walk. It was fairly deep in the trees, where the paths were less defined and the undergrowth was wilder and more dense. Once they set up a basic camp Moominpappa performed a little ceremony to start the contest.

“When I say go, all teams shall collect as many berries as the can in the span of one hour. The winners shall receive, uh—” he turned to Moominmamma, “What shall they receive, my dear?”

She thought for a second, “A jar of lingonberry jam all to themselves.”

“What about cherry tarts instead?” Little My piped up.

“Dealer’s choice, young miss,” said Moominmamma.

“You heard the lady,” Moominpappa said. “We all know it’s more about bragging rights anyway. Now, on my mark! Get set! _Go!_ ”

The teams raced off in different directions, or at least Little My, Moomintroll, and Snorkmaiden did. Lumi and Snufkin trekked at their own more leisurely pace, laughing at the whoops and hollers of their fellow competitors.

“So,” Lumi said after a while, “You and young Moomin, hm?”

Snufkin felt his face go red. “It’s, uhm—it’s a thing. That we do.”

Lumi patted him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, I understand. It’s private.”

“It’s not _private_ , everyone knows about it,” Snufkin muttered, picking that moment to examine a patch of brush for hidden berries. “We just… I don’t like doing _things_ in front of others. Stage fright, like Little My said,” He looked back at Lumi with a sheepish smile. Lumi smiled back at him; not his usual crooked, fanged grin, but something gentler, even a little wistful.

“Ah,” Lumi said. “Well, you two seem happy. Are you—is it, uh, _long term?”_

“I dunno,” Snufkin said. He found a small patch of wild onions and pulled a couple for his own use, stowing them in his jacket pockets. “I leave when Winter comes, which he doesn’t like, but I _need_ to travel by myself. He hibernates, but he still misses me and wishes he could come along. I always come back, I always _want_ to come back,” he stopped talking then, crouched down in the bushes, combing through the plants without really looking for anything. “I’d like it to be long term, I think, but that would mean… changes. I don’t know…”

Snufkin stood and walked a little farther into the brush, keeping his face turned away from Lumi to hide his fluorescent blush. He didn’t know why he blurted all that out; maybe because Lumi wasn’t as tangled up in his and Moomintroll’s lives as everyone else? Everyone knew about him and Moomintroll, but no one had ever asked him about the _particulars_ before.

“I knew a woman once,” Lumi said, “She was… remarkable. I liked her very much, but in the end we were very different. We both refused to change, so we ended it. We _did_ split up on good terms, but... Still, I often wonder about what could have been. I wonder if—if I had stayed with her, if certain things about my life would have been changed for the better. I—uh…”

Snufkin turned to look at Lumi, surprised by his sudden lack of eloquence. Lumi usually had a very clever tongue, but now he trailed off, awkwardly scratching at the fur on the nape of his neck, gaze wandering the green canopy.

“Wouldn’t you have missed travelling, if you had stayed with her?”

“What?” Lumi looked back at Snufkin, pale eyes distant.

“Don’t you think that if you’d stayed with her then your relationship would have been ruined eventually? What if you’d stayed and it was _suffocating_?” Snufkin asked, the words rushing out before he could stop them.

“Maybe,” Lumi said slowly, searching Snufkin’s face. “I can’t say, no one can. All I know is that there are things I… regret about leaving her when I did. I wish I had—I wish I’d at least _tried_ to make it work. Perhaps it would have ended badly, perhaps not. _Change_ , oddly enough, is not our kind’s strong suit, little Mumrik.”

Snufkin chewed his cheek and fussed with his tail. Things were _great_ with Moomintroll, but Lumi’s questions made him start wondering and, well, there were certain _things_ he didn’t like to think about too seriously. It made his heart thump and his thoughts race to the point that he needed to sit down and take deep breaths until the creeping panic passed.

“Snufkin, there’s something I need to—” Lumi started, but a long howl made him stop suddenly. The shriek got louder and louder until—

“ _Stop_ , you little cheater!”

Little My came tearing through the bushes, with Snorkmaiden in hot pursuit. Lumi and Snufkin both jumped back so the girls could run through. From the looks of things, Little My had stolen Snorkmaiden’s berry basket and Snorkmaiden was out for revenge.

Moomintroll followed at a jog after a moment and stopped at Snufkin’s side, bent over with his paws on his knees, struggling for breath. Snufkin patted his back and bent to smile at him.

“I take it the contest is going well?”

“Oh, yes,” Moomintroll gasped out. “We’ve progressed to all-out war, it’s just _fantastic_.”

“The little Mymble is a fierce opponent, you’ll have to get some recruit some allies if you want to win,” Lumi said, grinning his toothy grin once more.

“Yes!” Moomintroll said, springing up to stand up straight. “Uh, if you two aren’t, uhm, doing anything else.” He looked between Snufkin and Lumi very quickly.

“What else would we be doing?” Snufkin said. “Come on, let’s go capture us a Mymble. Unless,” he looked at Lumi, “Was there something you wanted—”

“No!” Lumi said, grinning wider. “No, it’s nothing. To war, boyos!”

The two boys ran off with Lumi following. The Fae let them run ahead a little ways so that they couldn’t hear him cursing under his breath.

 

 

The Great Lingonberry Hunt and the Great War of the Lingonberry that followed ended with relative success for all involved. Snorkmaiden caught Little My after a brief chase, but then the two decided to team up against the boys. The boys, in turn, decided to hedge their bets by collecting wild apples as a counterbid for the reward. In the end, Moominmamma declared that a dessert table _completely_ dominated by lingonberries would be a little boring, so the boys would be rewarded for their ingenuity with a jar of apple butter while the girls would still get their promised prize of lingonberry jam.  

“If you insist,” Little My said, after Moominmamma had decided the final terms of the contest. “I still think we won fair and square.”

“You stole our berries and ran off with them!” Moomintroll wailed, even while his tail wagged with amusement. “And then my very own teammate betrayed me. This whole contest is a sham!”

“You should know better than to trust a clever double-agent like me,” Snorkmaiden said with a dramatic pose. “A _true_ spy has no country and knows no brothers.”

“I have no idea what just happened,” Joxaren muttered to Moominpappa, taking a sip from his flask. “I was there the whole time and I’ve still lost the thread.”

“Youthful shenanigans,” Moominpappa said. “Just play along.”

“The very foundations of the system are corrupt!” cried Snufkin, trying to affect a stern frown and failing terribly. “The Apple People shall rise again against the oppression of the Lingonberry Elite.”

“Of course, dear,” Moominmamma said. “Would you like some honey apples with lunch?”

“Yes, please!” they all chorused.

They had a picnic lunch and then hiked back to the house. The youngsters washed and stored the berries in the cellar and then took off into the woods to wile away the rest of the day.

Joxaren begged off and climbed the tree next to the Moominhouse, finding a seat up in the high branches where he had a good view. He watched the kids play and run back and forth from the stream to the forest and in and out of the treeline, his heart a lead ball in his chest.

“You have to tell him the truth _sometime_ , you know,” Moominpappa called from the back door. “Summer won’t last forever.”

Joxaren pulled the brim of his hat low over his eyes and didn’t answer.

 

That night it all came crashing down.

Moominmamma served dinner in the grass behind the house so they could watch the sunset. Sprawled out on blankets and quilts, the family ate slowly, listening to the cricket song and watching the stars peek out from behind their dark veil.

Snufkin sat close to Moomintroll, nibbling the remains of his food and mentally composing a song to tell the epic of the Great Lingonberry War. He treasured these days more than anything; during his long Winter journeys he played them over in his head, the memories keeping him warm as much as any campfire or bedroll.

The only blot on the whole affair was how quiet Lumi seemed. Everyone else talked and shared stories, punctuated by comfortable silence. Lumi, meanwhile, had barely said three words together for the whole meal. This didn’t bother Snufkin so much as he too enjoyed the quiet, but it was uncharacteristic of Lumi. The wild man had been an endless source of tales and jokes for the weeks he’d been with them, always flashing that fanged grin, always ready with a crass comment to lighten up a brief dark mood.

Now he sat on the edge of the picnic blanket, chasing bits of fruit around his plate with his utensils.

It really was fine, Snufkin thought. Everyone had moods, everyone needed some quiet now and again.

If only _Little My_ felt the same.

“Where’s your head at, Lumi?” she said, between bites of apple crumble. “You’re not too down about how me and Snorkmaiden thrashed you at berry picking?”

“Of course not,” Lumi said.

“I thought we decided it was a draw,” Moomintroll said.

“It was a _moral_ victory,” Snorkmaiden insisted.

“If my siblings had been here we would have won more than a silly moral victory,” Little My said. “Well, I have the _one_ brother here, but he chose the losing side.”

Snufkin scoffed and rolled his eyes. _This_ again.

“Did you know Snufkin and me are half-siblings?” Little My asked.

“I’d heard,” Lumi confirmed.

“He disappeared when I was just a little thing,” Little My said.

“A _littler_ thing,” Lumi interrupted, the corner of his mouth twisting.

“Ha _ha_ ,” she said. “Anyhow, _poof!_ One day he was just gone. Mamma was frantic but eventually we had to stop looking. She could only handle so much on her own, you see.”

“Tragic,” Lumi said, his eyes shining in that strange, wild way from under the shadow of his hat.

“Look, I think I saw a shooting star!” Moomintroll said, pointing upwards. “Look!”

Everyone looked up, but the shooting star, if there had ever been one, was long gone.

“Oh, drat,” Moomintroll said. “Pappa, do you think there might be more? Like a meteor shower? Maybe we should all watch for more.”

“I—yes, it’s possible,” Moominpappa said, eyes darting between Lumi and Little My.

“Yes! That sounds lovely, I want to make a wish,” Snorkmaiden agreed heartily, flopping on her back to stare up at the sky.

“I haven’t seen a meteor shower in a long time,” Snufkin said eagerly. Moomintroll was so sweet, trying to shift the subject away from Mymble. He twined their tails together in thanks.

But Little My would not be stopped.

“But Snufkin somehow made his way here to Moominvalley, isn’t that amazing? All on his own!”

“Hmm,” said Lumi, through a mouthful of crumble.

“Does anyone want more lemonade?” Moominmamma said, leaning over the jumble of dishes to grab the bottle.

Little My slammed her silverware down. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, are you going to tell him the truth or not, _Joxaren?!”_

There was complete silence. It seemed even the crickets stopped chirping. Snufkin looked at Lumi _(Joxaren?)_ to see his easy expression had disappeared, replaced with a blank, hard look. His eyes had gone slit-pupiled and his tail was puffed up like a bottlebrush. A sour feeling started to curdle in Snufkin’s gut.

“May I ask,” Lumi said in a low voice, “How you know that name?”                           

“You may not remember me, but I remember _you_ ,” Little My said venomously. “You and _my_ _mother_ carried on for a bit a long time ago.”

“Your mother has had many lovers. Or so I am told,” Lumi said coolly, spearing a bit of apple with his knife. “It’s a wonder you kept track. Perhaps your memory is faulty, _Little_ My.”

“Ha, that’s rich,” Little My viciously tore a roll in half, and then in half again, and again until she was left with nothing but shreds, “Seeing as you’ve lost track of something important yourself.”

“My, this isn’t a good time—" Moominmamma started. She glanced quickly over at Snufkin, who was sitting still as stone.

 _Joxaren_ , he thought, mind starting to spin at a mad pace. That name sounded very familiar. _Awfully_ familiar, in fact.

 “ _Joxaren_ , or Lumi or whatever he’s calling himself,” Little My said loudly, so her voice dominated the conversation, “Was very fond of my mother Mymble for a couple of months, _so_ fond in fact that he left her a _parting gift_ right before he ran off. Am I remembering _that_ correctly, Joxaren? Did _you_ forget about that?”

“Girl, you’d better mind your mouth,” Lumi growled.

“Don’t you threaten her!” Moominpappa “Jox—er, _Lumi_ , you may be our guest but Little My is under our care and I won’t have anyone do her harm.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Little My sang out, drowning out Lumi’s stuttered reply, “It was all in a day’s work for my mamma, what’s another mouth to feed when you’re a Mymble? But it makes a little creature wonder what _he’s_ doing _here_ of all a sudden. It makes me wonder why everyone is keeping a secret _except_ for the one person who should know that secret more than anyone.”

Lumi stood, knocking his plate to the ground and upsetting his glass of lemonade. The air went cold and Snufkin noticed he could see everyone’s breath clouding in the air, as though it were Midwinter and not a balmy Summer night. He shivered in his thin shirt as a sharp wind cut through the yard, blowing the napkins all over and making everyone shudder. Lumi opened his mouth as if to say something but Snufkin interrupted him.

“Lumi,” he said, twisting his napkin in his lap, “Is that your real name?”

“No,” Lumi said after a pause. “Lumi is not my true name.”

“What is it, then, if you don’t mind telling me,” Snufkin said. His blunt claws were starting to tear the napkin, but his fists were shut tight and refused to let go. The air went colder still.

“It’s Joxaren,” Lumi said.

“Or Joxter,” Snufkin said.

“Yes.”

Snufkin eased his grip around the torn napkin and looked up, scanning each of the faces looking back at him. “You all knew, didn’t you?”

Everyone nodded. Lumi—no, _Joxaren_ started resolutely at the ground.

“Moomintroll, did you—?” he turned to stare, pleading, into Moomintroll’s frantic blue eyes.

Moomintroll sat still for a moment, and then nodded.

Snufkin’s heart, which had begun to thump when Little My had started to get more aggressive, gave a great, painful throb. Like a mechanical thing, he placed his dishes aside and rose up.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “Goodnight.”

He was lost to the shadows before anyone could stop him.

The chill in the air lessened abruptly as Joxaren let out a long, low hiss. He seemed to waver for a moment before he too was gone in a flash of red and black, off in the opposite direction that Snufkin had fled in.

Moomintroll’s eyes flooded with stinging tears and, before he could stop himself, he picked up a cup and flung it at Little My.

He missed by a good two feet but Little My still cursed at him, jumping up to dodge more flying crockery.

“Moomintroll, _don’t!”_ Moominpappa grabbed his son’s paws and pulled him away from the picnic.

“Why’d you do that?!” Moomintroll demanded. “It was none of your business, things were _fine_ and now Snufkin might _leave_ and—” he broke down in tears, burying his face in Moominpappa’s chest.

“Dearest, sweeting, Snufkin’s not going to leave,” Moominmamma said, putting her arms around Moomintroll and patting him soothingly.

“You’re the _worst_ ,” Snorkmaiden snapped at Little My, her coat turning neon green with anger.

“Oh, and the rest of you would have the whole season go by pretending you didn’t know?” the little Mymble snarled. “You’re all fine with _him_ wandering back into our lives when it pleases him? Acting like nothing’s changed and he didn’t leave _his own son_ to fend for himself? Even _my_ useless lump of a father shows up every once in a while—"

“He didn’t know!” Moomintroll cried. “My, he didn’t know _anything_ about Snufkin until last Winter!”

Little My went white as a sheet.

“That’s… that’s no excuse—” she started, but Moominmamma interrupted.

“Go inside, My. Up to your room,” she said, calm but firm as granite.

“But—”

_“Now.”_

“Well, fine then,” My mumbled and marched back into the house.

Moomintroll was inconsolable for nearly twenty minutes. His parents and Snorkmaiden did their best to comfort him, but no one could deny the evening had been an unmitigated disaster.

“I should have told him,” Moomintroll said miserably after he’d calmed down enough to talk. “I shouldn’t have kept secrets. What if he never forgives me?”

“He’ll forgive you, he just needs time,” Moominmamma said. “I think we all need to apologize, to be honest, but not now.”

“It wasn’t our place to say it,” Moominpappa said. “But we could have—I don’t know, sped the process along a bit?”

“Maybe,” Snorkmaiden said sadly.

“Do you think Snufkin’ll be alright?” Moomintroll asked, wiping a fresh spill of tears off his snout. “He must be so upset.”

“I think he will,” Moominpappa said. “Not right away, but he will. Him and Joxter need to work things out for themselves.”

They sat still for a minute before, through some silent agreement, they all started to gather up the dishes and blankets. Everyone seemed to agree that they all needed a little quiet time to themselves.

 

 

As soon as he crossed into the woods, Snufkin broke into a run. He ran and ran until his lungs burned and the wetness on his face dried to a tight, itchy film. When he finally stopped, he was out of breath and he _couldn’t stop crying_. He kicked at small flowering bush, shaking the blossoms to the ground and startling the small creatures who lived beneath it into sudden flight. He struck out at a tree, his claws carving through the bark and leaving four long, deep wounds. He wanted to scream but he bottled it inside and instead stamped his feet, paws gripping tight in his wild hair, knocking his hat to the ground. He felt like he was on fire and freezing all at once.

 _“I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care,”_ he chanted over and over, on and on until his throat dried up and he couldn’t breathe.

Eventually, his knees gave out and he fell against a large boulder, rocking and gasping for air. He was _drowning_ , he was _dying_ , he couldn’t _stand it_ , he couldn’t, _he couldn’t!_

The attack felt like it took ages to pass, but when Snufkin finally relaxed out of the agonized knot he’d wound his body into and looked up to see the moon was only just risen. It had been less than an hour since he ran away but his joints ached like he’d been going for days. He took a few deep, steadying breaths and made himself stand.

The walk back to his camp took a long time, not because he’d run terribly far but because his legs felt like jelly and his head ached. When he arrived, he first went down to the stream to splash water on his face and take a deep drink. When he lifted his head, he saw the faint reflection of a pale, rounded shape dancing on the water’s surface.

He looked up. Moomintroll was sitting hunched on the footbridge, waiting for him.

He was seized with the sudden, raging desire to dive into his tent and not come out until his friend had left, but Moomintroll’s unhappy posture and limp, hanging tail made his heart break all over again. He slowly approached the bridge and sat, leaning into Moomintroll’s soft side and burying his face in his shoulder.

Moomintroll wrapped his arms around him and rocked him gently as another bout of sobbing overtook him.

He didn’t cry for very long, he was simply too tired, but he stayed close to his dear Moomintroll for a while, watching the moon rise to her peak and climb back down again.

“I’m so sorry,” Moomintroll said quietly. “I shouldn’t have kept the truth from you. I just—I heard my parents and Lumi, uh, _Joxter_ talking the night he got here, and I thought… I wanted to tell you so _badly,_ but I didn’t think it was my place. I think we all were hoping Joxter would come to his senses and tell you himself but he—he was scared, I think. I’m sorry.”

Snufkin rubbed his eyes. “I forgive you,” he said. “I forgive all of you. I wouldn’t have said anything either. It’s not right, to go telling other people’s business before they can explain themselves. I wish he’d said _something_ before all… this.”

“I wish Little My could have kept her damn mouth shut,” Moomintroll griped.

“ _Hush_ , don’t curse,” Snufkin scolded with a watery, weak smile. Moomintroll nuzzled his wet cheek and he returned the embrace fervently before continuing, “She… I think she meant well. I forgive her too, or I will if she admits she make a mistake.”

“Mamma sent her to her room, she’s supposed to stay in there all day tomorrow,” Moomintroll said with a smirk.

“Fat chance of that working,” Snufkin said, scoffing.

“Hehe, maybe. I think she knows she messed up, though. When we told her Joxter didn’t know about you until recently she looked like she’d seen a ghost.”

Snufkin sighed and shook his head, a small grin on his face. He twined his tail with Moomintroll’s and they stayed cuddled together for a while longer.                                                   

“What happened to Joxter?” Snufkin asked, not really wanting to know but feeling he should.

“He ran off right after you did. Pappa says he doesn’t think he’ll leave the valley, though.” He paused. “Do you—do you want to come sleep in the house tonight?”

Snufkin thought. “No, I think I need to be alone. I need time to rest and to—to think things over.”

“Alright,” said Moomintroll.  He stood and the two shared a brief nuzzle before separating. “Sleep well, come get me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Snufkin said. “Love you.”

Moomintroll’s smile outshone the moon itself. “Love you, too.”

Snufkin watched him until he got back to the house and closed the door behind him. He took another quick drink from the stream and washed his face again. He crawled into his tent, shedding his coat, boots, and hat without bothering to stow them; he was exhausted. He was about to lie down when something distracted him: it was a small piece of paper resting on his bedroll, torn at the edges, with a message written in a spikey, almost unreadable scrawl. It read:

_‘If you want to talk, meet me at the bridge tomorrow night. Your father, Joxaren’_

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Moomintroll said.

“If you need to come here to stay the night afterwards just come right in,” Moominmamma said, adjusting Snufkin’s scarf.

“I know, thank you,” Snufkin said.

“Try not to hit him too hard,” Moominpappa added.

“I’m not hitting anyone, we’re just going to talk,” Snufkin adjusted his hat, mainly just to have something to do with his paws. He was all nerves, he had been all day, but he was resolute. He was going to fix this tonight, or _end_ it in some way, shape, or form.

“You don’t owe him anything,” said Little My from where she sat at the foot of the stairs. “Remember that.”

Snufkin pursed his lips but then blew out a stream of air and nodded at his sister. She was right, he didn’t owe his father a single thing. Still, he had made up his mind.

The whole family saw him off, as though he were going on a great quest and not simply down to the bridge where a man stood waiting in the moonlight.

“Well, I’m here,” Snufkin said.

“So you are,” Joxaren replied.

The silence felt heavy and hard. Snufkin cleared his throat.

“C’mon, let’s take a walk,” Joxaren said after a moment.

They walked for a while, Snufkin leading the way. They went deeper and deeper into the woods, following the path until it disappeared into the undergrowth. Snufkin slowed to a stop in a small clearing near a bend in a creek. He crossed him arms and stared down at the water. It glittered like a thread of silver in daytime, but at night it was black as ink.

“So,” he started. He looked over his shoulder to check that Joxaren was still there. He was, standing silently on the other edge of the clearing. “ _So_ , how did you know who I was?”

Joxaren leaned against a tree and shoved his paws in his coat pockets. “When we met I thought you looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t until you mentioned old Moomin and—and your mother that it dawned on me.” He looked up, eyeshine flashing, “I hope you can believe me when I say I had no idea you’d been born. It was a bit of… a bit of shock, to meet you out in the middle of nowhere.”

Snufkin nodded. He paced a little and then sat down against a tree. Joxaren walked over to the stream and looked out through the woods, but otherwise made no move, to leave or to speak.

“I don’t understand,” Snufkin said, staring down at his fists, clenching and unclenching in his lap. “Why didn’t you tell me when we met on that beach? Why did you _lie_ to me?”

Joxaren continued to stare downstream, taking off his hat and turning over and over in his paws. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He sat down suddenly, hat crushed against his chest. “Would you— _could_ you have believed me?”

Snufkin opened his mouth to retort but could think of nothing to say. They sat in silence for a moment.

“I suppose I wouldn’t have… I don’t think I would have believed you, no,” he said finally. “I might have thought that you were trying to take advantage somehow, or that you were just being cruel.”

Joxaren’s back stiffened. “And has that happened often? People being cruel to you?”

“Yes,” Snufkin said without hesitation. It was hardly a secret; the life of a vagabond was one that invited cruelty and judgement. “I’ve learned to take care of myself, even when people aren’t kind,” he added firmly.

“If I had been with you—” Joxaren started.

“But you weren’t with me,” Snufkin interrupted. He wasn’t angry, he realized. Simply… hollow. Like an old rotted log. He found them from time to time, sometimes stepping on them or sitting on them, only for the old damp wood to crumble and leave him tumbled to the earth.

“I will be honest with you,” Joxaren said, finally turning to look Snufkin in the eyes. “Your mother and I… well, it was just a fling. I don’t suppose you’re old enough to have been with someone just for fun, it’s like that sometimes, especially among my— _our_ kind, and—not that I _regret_ that you came along, but…” he trailed off. He heaved a great sigh and turned around more completely so he was facing his son. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what to say to you. Ach, I’m making a mess of things, aren’t I?”

“A little,” Snufkin said stiffly, “Though it’s all such a mess to begin with that it hardly matters.”

Joxaren snorted at that and plopped his hat back on his head. He stared at Snufkin for a few moments, the boy feeling quite pinned in place by those strange shining eyes until Joxaren seemed to come a decision.

“Perhaps…” he said, “Perhaps it would be better for you to simply tell me what you want to know, if anything. I will do my best to answer.”

Snufkin raised his brows, surprised. He’d expected many things, but not that. Over the months they’d known each other he’d gotten the firm impression the man wasn’t the forthcoming type. He nodded his assent and tried to think of something to ask. He did have questions, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers. He decided to start with one that didn’t concern him directly.

“Did… did you love my mother?”

To his surprise, Joxaren smiled. “I did, in my way. We had a lot of fun together. We spent a short time together, a month or two at the most, and we parted on good terms when we both felt it was time. Neither of us were the kind to be tied to any one thing, you see. I needed to travel, and she understood that.”

Snufkin nodded. _That_ he could understand; he did not relish the idea of being obligated to stay in one place, even a place so wonderful as Moominvalley. He _needed_ to move… which brought him to his next question.

“Have you always traveled, like me?”

Joxaren nodded, “Yes, but not alone. I ran with a pack of other hibernals when I was young. I suppose you’d call them my brothers and sisters, given that we all came from the same snowpack,” Snufkin made a confused face but Joxaren continued before he could ask what _that_ turn of phrase meant. “I stayed with them until I was old enough to strike out on my own. Some of our kind do that, others prefer to travel with a group their whole lives. Either way, we _must_ travel, it’s in our blood. It’s where you get your own streak of wanderlust, my boy. _A Seasonal Fae must follow the Way_ ,” he finished in a voice that implied he was reciting something, like an old poem.

Snufkin still frowned. Everything Joxaren said sounded like half-truths, even after he’d promised to answer Snufkin’s questions. Snufkin anxiously played with the tuft on his tail and resolved to press on, even if his father kept saying strange things.

“You always say things like ‘our kind’, and you called me a—a _halfling_ , when we first met. You said that my mother was a mortal woman and my father was a—”

“A Fae,” Joxaren finished for him.

“What did you mean by that?”

“I meant exactly what I said,” Joxaren said plainly. “I am Fae, your mother’s a mortal, so you are _Mumrik_.”

Snufkin frowned. More nonsense!

“But what is that supposed to _mean_?” Snufkin exclaimed. “Stop talking in riddles! You told me you’d answer whatever I asked of you!”

“I _am_ answering, boy,” Joxaren snapped. “I am a son of Winter, and so are you, or you _would_ be if you weren’t a halfling.”

“Don’t call me _that!”_ Snufkin hissed. “It sounds like a curse. And you still haven’t answered my question!”

Joxaren considered his son with narrowed eyes. He then heaved a sigh and stood up again. Snufkin was seized with a sudden terror that his father was going to leave, but Joxaren only scratched the fur on his neck and give himself a little shake.

“I’m a bloody great idiot,” he muttered. “Look here, perhaps this will make you understand.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, rolling his shoulders and jerking his head to the side with a swift crack. He searched the ground for a moment and then selected a frond from a large fern growing on the edge of the clearing. He plucked it and returned to Snufkin, crouching before him with the frond held in his outstretched palms.

At first nothing happened, but then a stiff, cold breeze rushed through the woods, making all the leaves and flowers shudder, and a strange white sparkle bloomed from Joxaren’s palms. Snufkin watched, transfixed, as the sparkle grew and grew until it coalesced around the frond, suffusing it with pale light, and then blew away like so much morning mist. When it was all gone, Snufkin could see the once green and healthy fern leaf was covered in a thick layer of frost.

He could only gape at the miracle before him. Joxaren smiled and held out the frond by the stem for him to examine; it stood completely stiff and upright, looking for all the world like the facsimile of a leaf, made of pure diamonds. Snufkin reached out and closed his paw around it, only for it to crumble and fall away into pieces; it was frozen and dead, made brittle by whatever strange magic Joxaren had just worked.

Joxaren gave a crooked grin. “Sorry it’s not more impressive, my powers are quite weak in warm weather.”

“ _Impressive_ \--?” Snufkin breathed. Joxaren had just performed the most marvelous magic trick he’d ever seen and he treated it like it was _nothing_. “How did you _do_ that?”

Joxaren handed the leaf over to Snufkin and sat back on his heels. He then spoke in a strange, slow manner, his voice seeming deeper and more resonant: “I am a hibernal Fae, born of snow to observe the cycle of the seasons and do the bidding of my mother, the Winter. It is from her that I draw my power.” He turned his blazing blue eyes on Snufkin, holding him in place with his gaze. “ _You_ are the union of mortal and Fae blood, a child of the Spring.”

Snufkin blinked, trying to say something, anything, but no words would come out.

Joxaren finally broke his gaze and stared at the ground for a moment.

“I’m sorry, that was quite a lot to lay on you, wasn’t it?”

“ _You don’t say_ ,” hissed Snufkin, still crushing the frozen fern in his paws. Joxaren gave him a sheepish smile and let himself lean back until he sat on his backside. Snufkin opened his paws let the broken pieces of the fern fall.

“So, you can do magic,” he said after a moment.

“Yes,” said Joxaren.

“And I can as well.”

“Of a sort, yes. Have you ever noticed that Spring always comes earlier here than anywhere else? How the flowers bloom for longer? How the birds lay more eggs and the bees make more honey? This valley _loves_ you. I felt it when I first arrived here.”

“I—I do that?” Snufkin asked. As if suddenly having a father wasn’t strange enough, he had to be a _wizard_. It was almost too much.

“Yes, some. This place has a lot of its own power, many other places like it do. You act as a… a boost. A little gunpowder to get the fire going strong.”

Snufkin took a deep breath.

“What does it mean to be… a Fae. Or whatever you are.”

“I am a _Fae_ , no covering anything up there. Most people know us as ‘fairies’ or ‘elves’. We’re not so far removed from trolls, actually. While your troll friends favor homes and things that are made with tools, our kind stuck to the wilds. It’s why you can’t stay in a house for too long, it’s in your blood.”

“My blood,” Snufkin repeated. He didn’t like that phrase, it sounded so… permanent. Like an iron manacle around his heart.

“Yes. A Mumrik is a half-Fae. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t know any of this by now, given that you knew what a Mumrik was when we first met.”

“It was just a—a word I learned on the road. I didn’t think of myself as _anything_ until some other travelers I met, back when I was just starting out, _called_ me a Mumrik. It just stuck,” Snufkin finished with a shrug. He’d been more insecure then, but he didn’t say that aloud. He’d latched on the identity simply to keep afloat in a hostile, lonely world where he barely knew himself.

“Hm, it’s possible those travelers were Mumriks themselves, or Fae. They could have sensed what you were, like I did.”

“You _sensed_ it?” Snufkin looked up at Joxaren’s face, startled.

“Yes, you have a very distinctive scent.”

“Oh,” Snufkin said, wrinkling up his nose. He blushed.

“Oh, don’t make that face, I don’t mean that you _stink_. It’s a—a Fae smell. I’m not sure anyone but one of our kind could detect it.”

Snufkin nodded, frowning. This was the strangest conversation he’d ever had.

“Did my mother know any of this?”

Joxaren made a thoughtful face. “I can’t say for sure; you should probably ask her that yourself. I think she knew I was—different. I don’t usually go advertising myself as a Fae to mortals, it only creates problems.”

Snufkin took his hat off and set it in his lap. He started pulling the drying lilacs out of the slot in the crown, just to have something to do. He had many, _many_ more questions, but one stood out above them all.

“Why did you come here? Why did you want to tell me any of this?”

Joxaren went still, then he sighed.

“I hardly understand it myself. I wish I had a clear answer for you, but I don’t. I wish—I very _dearly_ wish I could have been there when you were growing up. I wish you’d never been lost from your mother, I wish you’d never been placed in an orphanage…” he shook his head hard. “I never had a father either, you know? It’s not that he wasn’t present in my life, I mean I _never had a father._ We Fae are born solely of our mothers. I never intended to have children, but when I met you I—I wanted to know you. I wanted to make sure you were alright. And you _are_ , Snufkin.” He smiled, sadly, softly. “You might have needed me when you were little, but not now. You’ve done—you’re _doing_ so well. I want to _continue_ to know you, to see what you’ll do with yourself, if you’ll let me.”

Snufkin looked his father in eyes. Joxaren was a strange, shifty creature, full of airs and misleadings, but in that moment his eyes were truthful.

He held out his paw and Joxaren laced their fingers together.

“Tell me about yourself,” Snufkin said. “You know all about me, but I barely know you.”

Joxaren smiled, and he told his son everything.

 

 

Much later, Snufkin and Joxter walked back over the bridge by the Moominhouse.

Snufkin couldn’t hold back a mighty yawn. Far off over the mountains, the faintest hint of dawn was starting to peek out its silver head. It had been a very long night; good, but still long.

“Are you going back to your camp?” Joxaren asked.

Snufkin looked at the house and smiled to see the soft, wavering lantern light in the topmost window. “No, I’m going to go inside. Moomintroll’s waiting for me.”

Joxaren gave him a searching look, but then smiled. “Good,” he said. “I’m going to sleep in the forest for tonight—or what’s left of tonight, anyway.”

He started to walk away, but a sudden urge seized Snufkin and he called out,

“You won’t leave the valley, will you?” He colored right after he’d said it. His own voice sounded so _desperate_. It was embarrassing.

Through the gloom, he could see Joxaren smile. “Of course not. I’ll be there when you come find me.”

“Me too,” Snufkin said, and waved. Joxaren waved back and then melted into the dark of the trees.

Snufkin went quietly into the house, up the stairs on silent feet to find Moomintroll half-asleep in his bed, but still waiting for him. He bolted upright as soon as Snufkin entered the room.

“How’d it go, are you alright?” he asked, starting to climb out of bed. Snufkin smothered a giggle behind his hand and gestured for Moomintroll to lay back down.

“It was fine, I’m fine,” he said, and yawned again. “Let’s go to sleep, I’ll tell you everything in the morning.”

 

 

November came colder and brisker than Snufkin remembered. When he mentioned this to Joxaren, his father laughed and gave a chagrined little smile.

“Yes, well, that may have been my doing. Not on purpose!” he added when Snufkin raised his brows at him, “This weather has a powerful effect on my magic. I’ll reel it in next time, I promise.”

“Next time?” Snufkin said, looking hopefully up at Joxaren.

“Yes, next year,” Joxaren said, eyes scanning the gray skies. “If that’s still alright with you.”

Snufkin smiled. “Yes, I would like that. If you meet me in the village just on the other side of the Lonely Mountains on the day before the equinox, we’ll go down to Moominvalley together.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” said Joxaren.

They looked down the path they had been following for the last couple of days. They’d come to a point where it diverged, one side going South to the coast, the other to the East, up into forbidding, snow-capped mountains.

“Well…” Snufkin said, trailing off.

“Here we are,” Joxaren said, just as softly, looking upwards at the mountains. He traveled wherever the hibernal wind sent him, and he could feel the tug deep inside himself telling him to go East. The mountains were treacherous in Winter, not a problem for him but certainly no place for a child of the Spring.

Joxaren grabbed his son into a rough embrace and tried not to seem too relieved when Snufkin hugged him back.

“Be safe,” he said, trying his best not to sound too paternal or like he was giving orders. “And for heaven’s sake keep an eye out for ice storms.”

Snufkin gave him a squeeze before stepping back. “I will. Don’t forget to meet me in March.”

“I would never,” Joxaren said. He looked his son over one last time. Would he look different when they next met? Would he grow taller? Would he still want to travel into Moominvalley with him?

“Don’t look so worried, you’ll get wrinkles and then I’ll have to start calling you my grandfather,” Snufkin teased. Joxaren laughed.

“Such a disrespectful kit, and so cruel to your poor old father,” he chided, pulling Snufkin’s hat brim down over his eyes, laughing again when the boy gave an indignant squawk.

They said their final goodbyes once more and separated; Joxaren to the East, Snufkin to the South.

When he looked over his shoulder, Joxaren could no longer see Snufkin, as he’d already rounded a corner and gone out of sight. The urge to run after him was powerful, more powerful than any Winter wind, but he turned back and kept walking. Snufkin was fine. He had the Fae blood, and he had love inside him that would carry him through the cold and back, to the little valley and the family that cared for him.

For the first time in his long, long life, Joxaren prayed for a short Winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH DANG I wrote this really fast. It truly was an act of mad love. I can't thank y'all enough for reading and I hope you had half as much fun as I did writing it. The Moomin fandom has been absolutely lovely and I hope to hang out in there for a good long while. I'm not sure if I'll write more, but if you want to chat about fandom and overthrowing the CAPITALIST LINGONBERRY ELITE then hmu at https://cactusrabbit.tumblr.com/


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